“What now?” Finn groaned. “You know there’s no way we will outrun those guys,” Raoul said. “Huglund is probably on his way with the rest of them on horseback.”
“I won’t last on that road, not with this foot,” cried Adelaide . “I know,” Clayton stated grimly. “Just give me a second.”
A second was all he needed. The words were barely out of his mouth before a shrill whistle grabbed the group’s attention. From down the road they could see a wagon approaching. It was being pulled along by two overfed, but strong horses. Taz held the reigns, urging them on as quickly as they could.
“It’s Taz!” Cherry cried. “I knew she wasn’t going to leave us.” Kobal was halfway across the creek. Another few seconds and he would be on his way up the steep embankment. Clayton jerked his head towards the road and immediately took off towards it. Adelaide followed, with Finn following close behind. Raoul picked up Cherry, slinging her onto his back before joining the rest of the fleeing group. Cherry looked down the mound towards Kobal and gasped in terror.
“Don’t look at him,” Raoul hissed. “Keep your eyes forward.” Taz arrived just as Clayton reached the road. The back of the wagon was filled with assorted farming tools: pots, hoes, rakes, and a chipped wooden plow.
“Where the rot did you get this?” Adelaide exclaimed.
“A farmer down the road was kind enough to lend it to me,” Taz replied with a smirk.“I’m sure he’ll come to in time for us to thank him.”
Clayton laughed and urged the group into the back. “Is everyone comfortable?” Taz asked. “Rotting succulent, now let’s go!” yelled Raoul.
With a whip of the reigns, the wagon was off. Bits of dirt were flung violently from underneath the wheels as the two horses jolted forward, nearly knocking off Cherry from her perch before Raoul grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“Quite the habit with you, isn’t it Raoul,” Clayton laughed, “saving the girl.”
Raoul scowled, unable to stop it from turning into a grin as Cherry planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. As the horses quickened pace, it became difficult to keep track of where the wagon was going. Every small pothole and puddle sent the group bouncing uncontrollably. It was difficult enough to avoid landing on dangerous pieces of equipment without trying to catch the scenery. From what they could see, however, Kobal and his fellow Tibris Guards had given up trying to chase them down, deciding instead to wait on the arrival of their captain. If Huglund was nearby, it seemed only logical that he would collect the rest of his men before giving chase. They were safe, if only for a little while. Finn even allowed a sharp whoop of happiness to escape his lips before being, once again, thrust into the air as the wagon passed over a rather nasty pothole.
Trees flew by as they hurried along. The midday sun peeped through the cracks in the branches as the wagon jolted and bounced about from side to side. Regardless of how far behind the Tibris Guards had fallen, no one felt like slowing down. The more distance between them the better. It wasn’t until a crudely built stone bridge appeared before them that Taz cried out in surprise and pulled harshly on the reigns. The group was thrown about as the horses drove their hooves into the dirt with pained whinnies. An elderly woman carrying a basket of dried plums had just crossed their path. She shot Taz a nasty glance and continued on. Past the bridge there were people bustling about in, what appeared to be, one of the largest marketplaces in Amber. Everywhere there were booths and tents set up, every single one of them wearing a long list announcing the goods being sold. Anything from fruits and vegetables to fancy wears and shoes could be found. A nearby tree held up a homemade sign with the words: “Bonanza Square” crudely painted across it.
The group started to stand. From the cart there could be seen the tops of multiple buildings and towers just beyond the market. “Looks like there’s a town just past this fair,” Clayton remarked. “There’s bound to be some empty places there. We should find one. You agree?” This was directed at Taz, who smiled and agreed.
“I guess we know who wears the slender britches in this outfit now, don’t we?” Raoul whispered to Adelaide. She shot him a bitter glance, but quickly turned it on Taz. This look went unnoticed as the group made their way through the marketplace.
“Raoul, buy me something,” Cherry laughed merrily. “So it begins,” he sighed, fumbling around inside his pockets.
“We need some fresh supplies,” Clayton announced. “Jan’s cooking will only last us so long.”
“I’ll grab some food,” Taz replied. “You all head into town. I’ll catch up.” The streets of the town were cobbled and worn. Every building was a two story cottage, with roofs covered in thick slabs of pottery tiles painted with black tar. The doors and windows were painted deep auburn with thunderstorm gray. The air smelled dank and musty, and there seemed to be more mosquitoes populating the town than there were people.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Finn whispered, swatting at a passing mosquito. “It feels like half the town is missing.” “You think they were labeled Red Handed citizens?” Adelaide suggested.
“Unlikely,” commented Clayton. “It stinks here,” Cherry said, wrinkling her nose. “Like manure and rotting eggs.” “Good,” Clayton laughed. “Maybe it will mask our own stink until we can locate a bath. Not going to lie, we could all use a good scrubbing. Then we’ll find a place to rest up for a couple hours. If Huglund isn’t here by then, we’ll try making a break for it under the cover of twilight.”
“You all can rest if you want,” Raoul said. “I want to see what the folk here do for fun.”
“Raoul,” started Clayton. “I don’t think we should wander….” “Oh rot off. I’ll be fine.”
“Can I come?” Cherry asked.
“No, I’d rather you stay in the group,” Raoul told her. “Just until we know it’s safe. I’m sure Clayton will agree.” “Alright go ahead,” Clayton told him. “We’ll find someplace to stay. I’ll keep my eyes open for you once we do. Stay away from anyone suspicious and don’t venture too far.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Raoul took in his surroundings as he trudged along. There appeared to be plenty of small shops, a couple funeral parlors, a sizable family owned restaurant, and a few empty buildings that once hosted fine businesses before their owners decided to pack it in. The street was nothing more than coarse gravel, lined side to side with shallow ditches dug to hold any rainfall that otherwise would flood the walkways.
“What a rotting dump,” he muttered. Raoul knew in his heart that this town had probably supplied a fair portion of his family’s wealth. His father himself had taken several business trips away from Havendale, most likely to towns like this one. Whatever shady dealings he’d had or givies he’d abused, Raoul didn’t care to know. No one could ever truly understand the inner turmoil he bore concerning his parentage, and he didn’t plan to share any more on the subject than he already had. He soon found himself standing on top of a large mound of dirt, overlooking a productive quarry. Buildings loomed behind him as he glanced out at the scores of laborers digging away at the soil.
“Hey, look what I got!” a voice called out. Raoul turned around. Taz was making her way up to join him, a sack slumped over her shoulder and a slender, long container clasped in her other hand.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped. “The group’s back in town.” “You know you’re not the only one who knows how to endure alone,” she laughed, finally reaching the top. “I didn’t have many friends in Pinewood.”
“Plenty of fans though, I expect.” Taz scoffed and punched his arm. “I might have had a dedicated plugger here and there. Look at what I found down in the marketplace.”
She withdrew a long metal javelin from its casing. Raoul noticed a pair of triggers along the bottom and an adjustable knob.
“What is that supposed to be?” “The old man who sold it to me called it “malevolent art ,” but honestly, I think it’s just a rotting spear. If it can pierce the flesh of someone tryin
g to kill me, then I’ll use it as one. Apart from that, I found some extra rations and a couple blankets for me and Cherry.”
“How many plugs did it take to cover all that?” Raoul asked smirking wickedly.
Taz gave him a skeptical glance and shook her head. “Anyways,” she went on. “The vendor told me this town is called Ditchwater. I never knew it even existed.”
“Ditchwater, eh? That seems fitting.” “You know… Clayton says you hardly ever talked to anyone back in Havendale. Since I’ve met you, I find you rarely ever shut up, regardless of what you say.”
“I don’t know what the rot you’re talking about,” Raoul muttered. “Besides, there was never much of anything to say to those….those people back home. Nothing we had in common.”
“You don’t seem to have much in common with him or his friends either,” mentioned Taz, giving him a gentle shove. “Still, you all seem to get along well enough.”
“We’re all running for our lives. That’s something we have in common.”
Taz laughed. “I’ve seen plenty of Red Hands come to Pinewood over the years. Sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, but they all had one unifying thing in common.”
“What’s that?” Taz smiled. “They would have sold each other out to a Tibris Guard for just one more day of freedom. You guys are different. I see…I see trust and loyalty. It’s the only reason I’ve stayed with you for so long. I feel safer with you all than I would on my own.”
“Oh that’s the reason, eh? You sure it’s not something else? Or someone?” Taz blushed.
“Clayton is a good guy,” she laughed.
“And a good leader; one I actually trust.”
“He considers you a friend, Raoul, I can tell. I’m sure Finn does too, in his own way.”
“Wessel is a rotting dip. I wish only the worst on him.” “I’ll admit,” Taz said. “There are times he can be a bit…eh…”
“Pathetic? Cruel? Rotting inadequate?”
“Immature is what I was getting at. Still…I suppose we all have to stick together. Wouldn’t you agree?” Raoul grunted. A spotted butterfly fluttered around their heads as they made their downhill, passing along the edge of the field and drawing little attention as they did so. The workers didn’t give them a single glance as they strode along. Raoul nearly knocked one down. He had a half eaten sandwich in his hand, dripping in some kind of greasy dressing that smelled of goat cheese. His hair was red and cropped, and his cheeks covered in short, spiny whiskers.
“Hey, watch where you walk!” Raoul yelled. The worker threw up his hands in defeat. “My mistake,” he mumbled. His mouth was clearly full of food. “Got yourself a givie there, eh? I’ll give you seven shine for a turn.”
Taz gasped in surprise. Raoul stepped before her, his hand poking atthe worker’s chest. “She’s no givie, friend,” he growled. “At least she isn’t anymore. Show her some rotting respect. Seven shine? She’s worth ten at least. Now you can shove along. Got it?”
The worker nodded and walked around them, making his way on back into the clay field. “ Can you believe that wink?” Raoul said.
Taz smiled before placing a wet, sloppy kiss on Raoul’s lips.
“Thank you for defending me,” she said. “I mean I’d say I could go for at least twenty, but it’s all good.” “Y eah well, no one should have to do those sorts of things for shine,” Raoul declared. “My father….never mind it isn’t important.”
“Go ahead, tell me.”
Raoul stopped walking, his eyes staring off into the distance as his mind clouded. “My father….Raoul King…well , what people say about him is mostly true. They always considered him a foul fellow with a taste for affairs and poor business. The TOX, the products….it all went through him. The one thing they didn’t know about, or perhaps couldn’t accept, was his interest in the givie trade. I never saw much of what he did, but I know he indulged in rewards of the enterprise. Some say he might have even fathered a squirm here or there across the Province. My mother knew too, I imagine.She knew right up until she…well, ended things. Whenever I see someone like you, or someone like Cherry, I just….I won’t stand for it. They’ll never use the two of you like that ever again. Not anymore.”
There was a moment of empty silence, Raoul looking away and Taz looking down. Slowly, her hand slid into his, her fingers clasping together.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “Yeah, well neither do any of the others. Either that or they just don’t care. It’s going to stay that way though, I mean it; especially with Cherry. Gotit?”
Taz nodded. Raoul smiled before pointing at a nearby tent. Unlike others surrounding it, this particular one had been adorned in colorful mirages and hand-woven tapestries. A short chain was wrapped around the top of the front flap, a painted side hanging down from it. It read:
“Madam Portia. Palm Reading and Fortune Telling. No Credit.”
“Looks like fun,” Taz exclaimed, then noticed Raoul’s skeptical look. “Fine, I’ll go first.” She poked him gently in the ribs and entered the tent. Raoul stood idly by for several seconds before taking a seat on an overturned bucket a few yards away. As he waited for her to finish, he couldn’t resist poking his head into the neighboring tent next door. It was too dark to see what was happening, but from what he could hear, it involved two people of opposite genders. Whoever the girl was, she seemed to be trying too hard, a fact that turned Raoul off from spying almost instantly. He turned back to Madam Portia’s tent in time to see Taz exit. Her face was dark and confused.
“Well, how was it?” he asked her. “What did she say?” “What? Oh…a whole lot of rotting dippery.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
“Well,” she declared, uneasily. “It’s your turn now.” Raoul bowed sarcastically and ducked inside the tent.
The doorway was draped in patterned foreign rugs and black, tattered shrouds. Multiple lamps and burning candles gave off a thick aroma of jasmine and incense. In front of him was a small table, around which were set multiple silk pillows. Past the table hung a thick velvet curtain, falling down to just a couple inches off the ground. The sounds of a woman muttering shreds of nonsense to herself could be heard behind it.
“Um…hello?” he asked. The muttering stopped and the velvet curtain flew open, revealing Madam Portia. Her hand was lifted casually as if the curtain had moved expressly at her command. She seemed somewhere in her early forties and quite well groomed for a fortune teller. Her hair was braided and adorned with flowers, smelling strongly of vanilla perfume. She had fair brown eyes and ruby red lips. She was dressed in a long, silver gown that covered her from head to toe, except for her bosoms, which protruded out of her chest like they were trying to make a hasty escape.
Madam Portia smiled over at him and bade him sit down. “Welcome , to Madam Portia’s Den of Unexplainable Occurrences,” she announced. Her voice was low and luscious. The very sound of it made Raoul’s arm hairs stand erect, among other things.
“Are you…Madam Portia?” he asked nervously.
“I am young sir. And what might your name be?”
“You’re the psychic, you tell me.”
She smiled at his sarcasm. “ I suppose I could be like those other psychics out there who can guess your name in a matter of seconds. Would you enjoy that?”
Raoul remained silent. “Perhaps after that , I could tell you all about how horribly you felt once your mother died. Maybe I could remind you how practically no one back home enjoys your company. I could even comment on how you don’t understand why that is, which ultimately makes you bitter and unlikable in the first place. The sad thing is that the more time you spend with people…the less you trust them, even people like your three friends.”
No response. “And after that , we can discuss your hatred of a particular fool you know, one who means well, but continues to drive you closer and closer to some terrible breaking point.”
“Well what about him?”
She grabb
ed his hands, nearly yanking him across the table. He struggled momentarily before surrendering in wonder as her pupils suddenly enlarged and her face started to twitch and quiver. It went on for a full minute before she finally let out a long, labored sigh, sinking back onto her pillow.
“Well?” Raoul asked, leaning in closer. “What did you see?” Madam Portia raised her eyes to him and smiled seductively. Reaching out, she cupped Raoul’s face in her hands, fondling it as she planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips. He didn’t even hesitate as she continued to passionately embrace him. His hands crept up her gown in pursuit of what he prayed would be her greatest feature. Before he could find it, she released him, falling back onto her sitting pillow.
“What…what,” he started, staring at her mouth retreating from his. “Um…what was that for?” She smiled, shrugging her s houlders. “I took a peek inside your mind. That particular desire was lodged in a more….oh shall we say “tender” region of your subconscious, but I saw it regardless. It seemed unfair to deprive you of the opportunity.”
“Was that all that you saw?”
Madam Portia shook her head.
“I saw how poorly your father treated you,” she continued. “I had no idea how cruel he could be. I’m sorry. I saw the nights locked in the closet, the dinnerless evenings, the sarcasm, the hate…..I saw it all.”
Raoul shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I saw the way you feel when people look at you…all the emptiness you can’t control. You don’t feel important, and you doubt yourself.”
Raoul’s palms started to sweat. He hastily rubbed them against his pants. “You respect your leader….a pleasant fellow. You admire his courage and attitude towards life. I sense….I sense you feel you cannot live up to the expectations he has of you. You should also avoid the one called Finn,” she warned him. “You have a dark side that he feeds unintentionally….one I would keep in check, if I were you.”
The Acryptus Tree Page 17